


Sunday in the Park with Gold

by tronjolras



Series: Sunday in the Park with Gold [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Storybrooke, no magic, single parent! belle, single parent! gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tronjolras/pseuds/tronjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gold used to spend Sunday mornings sitting alone on the park bench while Neal had soccer practice. When Belle moves to town with her infant daughter, he starts to think he might not have to be alone anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday #1

“Do you mind if I sit?” Russell Gold looked up to see a harried young woman tugging a baby carriage.

He slid over on the bench and pat the other side. “All yours.”

She looked wistfully at the playground and park as she gently pushed to stroller back and forth. 

“Which one is yours?” she asked quietly, worrying the hem of her sleeves. 

He pointed to the soccer field, “Number three, he’s eight.” He waved at Neal who rolled his eyes and huffed before racing his friends to the goal. Gold smiled. “How old is yours?” he asked. 

The longer he looked at the woman leaning over the baby carriage, the more he noticed how young she actually was beyond the bags under her eyes and the flyaway hair. 

She smiled at the peaceful bundle in the stroller. “Six months.” Her mouth tugged into a frown as the bundle squirmed. She looked at Gold with pleading eyes. “Last night was the first time I could get her to sleep through the night.” She lifted the baby girl out of the stroller and held her on her lap. 

The baby’s face squished into a scowl and sucked in a lungful of air before emitting a high pitched whine. 

The woman bounced the baby frantically. It was only a few minutes before the baby was calm again. She looked around nervously, assessing the disturbance of her baby’s outburst. 

“I remember those days,” Gold offered calmly, angling himself so he could talk to her and keep an eye on Neal. “Sorry, my name’s Russell Gold, and Neal is running around here somewhere,” he said, sticking out his hand and smiling in a way he hoped was the most friendly smile he had ever smiled. 

She rested the baby against her chest and shook his hand. “Belle French, and this is Olivia.”

“Hi Olivia,” he cooed.

The baby wrinkled her nose and went back to dozing. 

“Do you come to this park often?” she asked hesitantly. “I don’t want to be nosy--”

“Not at all,” he could not stop smiling. He could sense that Belle’s nerves were stripped to the bone with a six month old. “Neal and I come here every Sunday for his soccer practice. We’ve done this…” he counted the years, “for three years now.”

She sighed. “I just moved here. I’m scoping out all of the best parks.”

“Oh, where are you from?”

Belle blushed and he noticed the way she clung to Olivia like a security blanket. “Just a town over, I had to get away from my dad."

“I moved here from Glasgow for much the same reason,” he found himself saying. He coughed and began again, wishing she wouldn’t pry further. "Do you like it here so far?"

"To be honest, I haven't seen a lot of it between Granny's Inn and the diner—I'm a waitress," she confessed. 

"Neal loves Granny's" Gold said quickly. "He begs to go almost everyday."

“Well, I’m there everyday,” she said with an underlying bitterness she worked hard to conceal. “I’m not complaining, Granny is letting me stay at the inn until I find an apartment.”

Gold ran through the list of apartment buildings he leased. “There’s an old home just down the street that has been converted into apartments,” he recited. “It’s small but relatively cheap.” and so was the owner.

“Oh,” he could tell that she was not used to such kindness, and it made him sad. She was beautiful and seemed goodhearted. He distracted himself from that dangerous train of thought by watching Neal dribble a soccer ball between his feet. “Thank you--did you say Russell was your name?”

He nodded. Yes, Russell. Not this tyrannical Mr. Gold everyone cowered away from when the end of the month came along, or anytime in the month for that matter. 

They sat in silence for the rest of the morning, until Neal ran over. 

“It was lovely meeting you Belle,” he said quietly. 

She smiled up at him, a truly genuine smile that made her blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. “I’m happy I met you too, Russell. I’ll see you next Sunday.”

“Yes, next Sunday.”

Later that day, when Neal begged to go to Granny’s for lunch, he didn’t say no.


	2. Sunday #2

She found him on the same park bench. The whole week, she had been given plastered smiles and worn a good share of her own. It was beyond refreshing to see his bright smile. He seemed genuinely happy to see her there. 

“Good Morning,” Gold greeted. 

She smiled and sat down. 

“How was your week?” he asked as she lifted Olivia out of her stroller.

Belle sat the baby on her lap and watched Olivia watch the world. “Livy slept every night this week!”

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Well, there were some little incidents, but I mean!” She hugged Livy to her. “Oh! and I leased an apartment. That building you told me about was perfect! It’s just enough room for Livy and I. Thank you so much!”

Gold hated to think that he was blushing, but he could not deny that jovial warmth that flooded to his face at her gratitude. “I am glad I could help you.” 

“Oh you have,” she assured him. “I should have asked you, how was your week?” She found herself a little embarrassed for gushing on about her life before asking about his.

He shrugged. The mayor hated him. He hated the mayor. He had to foreclose a home on the outside of town. He was slapped by the woman who had owned the house. He could not renew the lease on a pizza place on main street. Milah was once again late on her child support payment. She ignored all of his calls. He received no less that three threats. The school called him regarding a scuffle between Neal and the daughter of the pizza shop owner. “Neal just made a fantastic goal." Belle interjected with a little cheer. "But he is struggling in science. I think it runs in the family.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s an exciting life.”

Belle laughed. “Does his mom help?”

“What?” He jumped. There was nothing that could curdle his blood quite like the mention of his ex-wife. And just the concept. Milah helping someone. He grimaced.

“Oh,” Belle interrupted. “I didn’t mean to—I saw your ring. I’m sorry.”

Vaguely, he looked down at his right hand and realized that he was wearing his wedding ring. “Habit, I guess.” It’s been five years, Russ, pull yourself together. “But to answer your question: no. Milah is very far away from here, exactly where he needs to be as far as I am concerned.”

He chanced a look at Belle and found her a little paler than before, like she was fading. She bent her head over Olivia, busying herself with re-buttoning the baby’s onesie. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

He sat, staring resolutely out at the soccer field. “We don’t get along.”

“I guess that happens.” She laid Olivia back in the carriage. "Livy's dad," she began slowly, "and Livy are not quite as far apart as I would like.

He bore his scars, she bore hers. 

"But I can't imagine my life without Neal, so I guess I have to thank her for something."

Belle peered into the carriage. "Livy is the best thing in my life." There was a fragility to her words that sounded like glass about to shatter.

"The apartment hunt!" he said before they fell too deep. "You said you found a place." 

"Yes." Her mind was still with Livy's father, he could tell the distance. "I'm looking forward to moving out of Granny's. I love them both, but some of Ruby and Granny's arguments wake Livy up."

"If you need anything—"

"Thank you." 

He felt stupid for even offering.

"Actually, do you know where I could find a crib? The apartment comes furnished, but no crib."

"I'm sure I'll come up with something." He thought of the doll cradle in his shop bedecked with coral flowers and little gray bunnies. Adorable, but not quite useful. 

She laughed, a clear tone full of joy and a little wonder. "I am so glad I met you Russell. You're a veritable fairy godmother!"

Before Gold could respond, Neal ran over. "Papa! Did you see that goal?"

"That was spectacular! Neal, simply spectacular!" Gold said as he stood.

"You must be very talented," Belle said, still sitting. 

“Thanks!” he chirped.

“Neal, this is Miss Belle French and her daughter Olivia,” Gold introduced. 

Using his master tutelage in manners, Neal stuck out a hand to shake. “Hello, Miss French.”

Belle took his hand, impressed. “‘Belle’ is fine.” Neal nodded and then waved at the baby in the carriage who was currently transfixed by the neon yellow of Neal’s uniform. 

“Next week is our first game!” Neal announced with pride.

“Thus the madness begins,” Gold muttered to Belle.

She smiled a dazzling smile up at them both. “Are you excited?”

“So excited!” Neal practically jumped up and down.

Gold put his hands on Neal’s shoulders and began to steer him to the parking lot. “Come on Neal, you still have homework to do.”

“But it’s the last week of school,” he whined.

“All the more reason to finish strong,” Gold said. “I will see you next week,” he said to Belle.

“Next week, Russell,” she repeated, before Gold and Neal walked away. She sighed and took Livy out of her carriage again. “Russell is such a lovely person,” she told Livy. 

The baby looked at her with big blue eyes that reflected her own.

“It’s a shame he seems so lonely.”


	3. Sunday #3

He had brought tea. High caffeinated lemon. He figured it was the most widely palatable flavor in his cupboard. And he waited. 

The time that Belle usually joined him passed and he found himself worrying unnecessarily for his young friend and her daughter. 

It was fifteen minutes after they usually met that he saw Belle push the carriage along the sidewalk, pretend not to see him, and sit three benches away. She stared resolutely out at the playground, hold Livy on her lap and refusing to even look his way. It was such a deliberate action that he became once again concerned. 

The tea was cold now. He walked over to her and greeted her with a smile. "Good morning, Belle. I have a lead on a crib for Livy."

She looked like she wanted to smile back up at him, but forced her mouth into a scowl and tightened her arms around Livy's torso. "Hello, Mr. Gold." Her voice was cold and he detected a forced indifference.

"A woman just brought an old crib into my shop. It's—"

"Thank you Mr. Gold, but I don't think we should continue this conversation, or really any conversation for that matter." Here blue eyes were stony.

"Are you alright Belle?" He looked around, looking for any suspicious characters that might had. 

She looked down at Livy. “Look, Mr. Gold, I know what you are.”

He scoffed. “And what am I?” In his heart, he knew it had only been a matter of time until Storybrooke citizen’s tainted the mind of the poor girl and tell her all the lies they cultivated over the years. The lies that were too close to being true.

She turned her face to look up at him, crystal eyes pained and trembling. “Please Mr. Gold. You know what you’ve done. And I can’t--”

He raised his hands in defeat. "It was truly lovely knowing you, Miss French.”


	4. Sunday #4

She didn't sit. She just stopped the carriage at the far end of the bench and looked at him crossly. "I still need a crib." 

"Miss French—"

Neal ran over, sweaty from his second game. "Papa! We won!"

"Fantastic!" Gold said, embracing his son. 

"We get to go to Granny's right? You promised when we won—" 

"I know," he said, "but first we have to walk Miss French to the shop. Then, I will keep my word and we will go to Granny's." Neal deflated, but took his father's hand as Gold shouldered the little duffle bag. “If you will, Miss French,” he said bleakly, gesturing her to keep instep with them. 

Neal offered her a small smile, no doubt resentful that he had to wait for Granny’s. He peeked around his father and and gave a little wave. “Hi Miss Belle,” he said. 

“Hi Neal,” she replied, mimicking his half wave. “How was your game?”

“We won!” 

“That’s great!”

Gold remained stonily silent. 

The walk was fifteen minutes long and lead them to the outer stretches of Main Street, closer to the wharf. It was a tiny installment next to the other multi-story buildings . The taupy-sea green siding stood out against the bright gray sky and a worn sign announced: “Mr. Gold” “Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer.”

After Gold unlocked the two locks on the front door, Neal sprinted into the shop, sending the bell above the door into a frenzy of tinkling. Gold walked stiffly in after, and then Belle, pushing the baby carriage, which she only jostled a little bit over the threshold. 

It looked like an attic. An attic of a house long forgotten. There was a general order, probably something far more sorted than Belle could see on first glance. Neal bounded around the shop, examining the curios in long glass cases. The shop obviously captured Neal’s fascination. 

The crib sat unceremoniously in the middle of the shop, not quite aligned with anything. It was old, but looked sturdy. Belle left the carriage near the door and took Livy into her arms. With her free arm, she applied pressure to random areas of the structure, pretending she knew how to actually inspect it. Gold watched her intensely. The white paint over the wood frame was not as true to its original color as it could have been, but it certainly wasn’t flaking or peeling. 

“I assure you that it is completely stable and safe, Miss French.” Gold said from behind the counter. “I’ve performed any number of tests to ensure it.”

Livy reached out and held on to the rail. “I guess it’s my best option.” Belle said, her lips pulled into a tight line. “What do you want for it?” she asked. Her eyes were hard and Gold could tell she was ready to negotiate.

That wasn’t necessary. “Just take it. It’s yours.”

Belle’s eyes narrowed.

“There’s hardly a bidding war over it, dearie. And don’t you think I might gain a little bit of benediction by performing an act of charity?” If she thought he was half the monster the rest of the town believed him to be… he scoffed to himself.

She scowled. “What would you charge a stranger?” she demanded.

He thought for a moment. Sizing her up. Using his years as a pawn shop owner to estimate what she could afford. “Thirty dollars.”

“That’s a lie.”

He sighed. “Fifty dollars.”

He saw a flicker of worry run across her face, but she held firm. "Forty-five." She knew he was still going easy on her, but she had come to haggle and she would have felt a little cheated if all she had down was talk the price up.

"Deal."

She dug out forty-five dollars in cash out of her thin wallet. 

"When are you moving?" he asked after the nasty business of money exchanging hands.

"I need the crib next Sunday," she replied, retreating back to the carriage near the door and laying Livy back down. 

"I will bring it right after Neal's game."

She spared him the echo of a smile and left the shop with a short, but warm, goodbye to Neal.

"Granny's!" Neal reminded his father after the door closed, but Gold took his time at the cash register and log book before leaving for the diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments! they make writing this so much more enjoyable, so I hope you continue like and comment to offer feedback. Thank you!  
> -A


	5. Sunday #5

Gold arrived at noon. He had let Neal go with a friend to Granny's as the team celebrated their second win. Gold had lugged the pieces of the crib up two flights of steps and was embarrassingly winded from it. 

He found Belle on the top floor surrounded by cardboard boxes in the sunny living space, the front door was held open by a stack of books. 

“Hello, Miss French,” he said quietly.

She looked up from unwrapping plates from newspaper. “Good morning. How did Neal’s game go?” She assumed a friendly if distant expression. 

“He won, he shot the winning goal.” 

Her smile became much more genuine. “He must have been excited.”

He nodded and glanced around the bare apartment. The sun shined through twin windows on the back wall of the living space. To the right, there was a small kitchen and on the left, three doors lead to different rooms. “I have the crib,” he said, gesturing to the frame against to wall. Belle lead him to one of the small bedrooms. “Where’s Livy?” he asked as she watched him get to work from the doorway. 

“Ruby’s watching her,” she replied.

He chuckled. “Isn’t that Granny’s—”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t she a little—”

“Ruby’s fantastic with children.”

“I’m sure.”

Belle crossed her arms across her chest. “She watches Livy everyday during my shift and Livy loves her.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sufficiently cowed. 

She left the doorway and went to continue unpacking her kitchen. After twenty minutes, he detected the welcome scent of coffee brewing and not long after, she surprised him with a mug. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Gold,” she said quietly.

He stood up. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Belle lingered in the room that was going to be Livy’s. the walls were white, reflecting the sunlight from the lone window in the room, peeking out of one of the house’s dormers. 

He noticed the way her fingers clutched around her own coffee cup and her shoulders sagged. Dark circles outlined her eyes and she leaned back against the wall. “Livy’s week of sleep didn’t last long,” she explained with a self-conscious smile. “I think she knows that we’re moving. I mean, at seven months, being in one place for three...that’s practically half of her life!”

He chuckled. “Yes, I guess that is.” 

“You can’t be so terrible,” she said abruptly. “Granny and Ruby, they didn’t exactly paint a flattering picture of you a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh?” He leaned back against the adjacent wall. “And what kind of picture did they paint.”

Belle looked down at her feet, everywhere but at him. “Well, they said you were a miser—well they used the term ‘bastard,’ but I thought that was colorful.”

He allowed a sharp self deprecating laugh. “What else?”

She sighed. “They said you owned most of the town, and that you were pretty ruthless and some pretty sketchy stuff from the past.” Her voice became almost silent. “They also said you tried to take Ashley's baby.”

A flurry of words presented themselves for him to defend himself with, but he swallowed them all. Belle’s looked at him and found his eyes hollow.

"That isn't true, is it?" she asked. She was afraid of the answer and he was afraid to tell her.

"Miss Boyd and I had an agreement as to the care of her child, yes."

Belle slid down the wall and sat on the floor

"There was a couple in Storybrooke who desperately wanted a child and Miss Boyd did not. There was nothing extralegal about it, I simply helped Miss Boyd complete the necessary forms. I never tried to kidnap her child if that is what they said." He snarled at the mere thought of it. 

"You should put 'legal consultant' at the end of your sign," she retorted.

"It is true that when Miss Boyd changed her mind, I argued very strongly that she reconsider."

She nodded and resumed her intense study of her feet. "Oh."

"Did you think that I would...Livy?" he asked quietly, hurt.

"No, no!" she rushed to assure him. "I don't know...I've only been here three months. I've only known you for one, Russ—Mr. Gold."

"I'm sure Storybrooke's matriarch and company only meant their best," he scowled. "They told you about much more than Miss Boyd, correct?" She cradled her face in her hands. "The big, bad Mr. Gold, displacing people from their homes left and right. Most people only see me when I come to collect their hard earned wages at the end of the month. And the crown jewel of the matter, my wife.” 

Cruelly, he drew himself back to the days just after Milah left. No one was quite fond of him, even then, and it was the first accusatory stare. He had taken Neal to daycare, as usual. Milah knew how to hit him were his suits wouldn’t show the bruises, but this was the first time Neal was in the room. It was Madame Mayor, if he remembered correctly. She scoffed and made a not too quiet remark about Neal’s black eye. Milah would have come up with a story, maybe Gold had haphazardly left a dusty antique around the house. She would have laughed at her husband’s foolishness with a laugh that was just broken enough for people to suspect that she was the victim. But his tongue wasn’t so quick. He fumbled about an accident, then he went home and weeped into his hands. The shop was closed for a week. 

She had left so suddenly that there was an investigation and after two months, Sheriff Graham and Mayor Mills, his puppeteer, reluctantly closed the case accepted his testimony. No one payed attention to the disappearance of the drunkard ex-navy man who left the same night. “Storybrooke's favorite girl, before she met me. I'm sure half the town is still convinced that I killed my wife—and the other half thinks I drove her out of town." 

He had to, at least, thank God that Neal had grown up to be a miraculously well-adjusted child that the whispers of child abuse had stopped circulating. 

"That's not fair," she said, looking up at him with a set jaw. “Those stories are terrible.”

"But you've heard them all, haven't you?"

"I didn't believe them..." she fumbled over her words as she flushed a deep red.

"And yet. You don't get extra points for befriending the town pariah, dearie." His acidic “dearie” was what made it unbearable. She hid her face in her hands "I don't blame you for not wanting to be seen with me."

"I haven’t been here long. It was a matter of self-preservation," she admitted. She didn't need to say anymore. He and matters of self-preservation were certainly well acquainted. 

He pushed himself off the wall. “Your crib is finished, Miss French. If you have any issues with it…” He left the nursery and set his mug on the kitchen counter.

Belle followed him out. ‘Thank you, Russell. I’m sorry.”

“Nevertheless, Miss French, it has been a pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the long wait, midterms are a bitch. Anyways, I hope this gives a little resolution. Expect more soon!


	6. Sunday #6

There was no expectation the following week. Gold expected to sit alone on his bench like he had for years as he watched Neal grow more and more talented at soccer.

That was why he was stunned into silence when Belle came, pushing along the baby carriage. She smiled and him and stopped on the other end of the bench. She sat and sat Livy on her lap and began. "I've only ever been to Storybrooke once. My dad owns a flower shop in my hometown so when I was ten or so, he entered a floral show here. It was judged by the mayor then—I thinks she's the current mayor's mother."

He nodded.

"Anyway, it was nice. I alway liked working with my dad. We entered this huge bouquet full of yellow roses which are my favorite. I picked all of the ones that he used by hand. I can't remember it exactly, but I think it had the traditional baby breath and a lot of greenery. I don't remember a lot about that day, but I remember we didn't win. Actually, the winning entry was almost exactly like ours, but red roses instead of yellow.

"I remember being really sad that we didn't even place, but Dad took me out to the wharf and we ate ice cream." She looked out at the playground. "It was the day my mother died, actually. We were thirty minutes away from her when she got into the accident, but we didn't get the call until we were on our way home."

"I'm sorry."

She gave him a bitter smile. “Dad never let me go anywhere afterward. I became the shut in whose mom died. Not so terrible as suspected murderer, I guess.” She shrugged. 

He didn’t speak. Perhaps it was a mix of shock that she was in public with him or the poignancy of the story. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her again. 

She watched the kids playing on the playground for a moment then watched Neal on the soccer field. The sun cast a golden haze on the grass and the trees. One could almost see the sunlight. “A couple of weeks ago, I told Granny and Ruby that I had met a very nice man named Russell Gold. Every chance they could, they had someone tell me a terrible story about you.”

A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Yes, that is apt to happen, I’m afraid.” 

"I should not have believed everything they told me without any proof."

"I know why you did though," he said without bitterness. He pointed at Livy. "She's the most important thing in the world to you. You just wanted to protect her."

She accepted the explanation without objection. 

“How is the crib working out?” he asked abruptly, the silence had been uncomfortable. He could not shake the image of Belle discovering her mother was dead. He imagined it would have looked a bit like when he found out his own mother was gone.

“Good, great,” she shrugged. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” he watched Neal miss a goal. “And the apartment?”

“It’s the first time I’ve ever lived alone—well, not quite alone,” she toyed with the black ringlets in Livy’s hair as she rethought her answer. “It’s the first time I’ve lived away from my dad.” She fussed over the buttons on Livy’s dress. “The walls are all white. They make me think of a hospital or a prison.”

He shifted to watch Neal follow the ball. 

"How's he doing?" she asked, pushing away her own woe.

"It's not his day," Gold replied. 

"It happens."

Gold sighed. Neal was off. Maybe he was getting sick. “How is Granny’s?” Or maybe he needed to stop being a helicopter parent.

She shrugged. “I shouldn't complain.” She played with Livy's curls affectionately while Livy half dozed against her mother's arms. "Have you ever had a moment in the pawn shop where you take a step back and wonder what the heck you're doing?"

He sighed. "I can't say I harbor any particular fondness for dusty old rocking chairs." 

She smiled. "What would you do? If you could have any job in the world, what would it be?" She had already formulated her own answer, but waited patiently for his.

"I wouldn't. I would travel."

She laughed. "That doesn't count," she accused. "I'd love to travel if I didn't have to work—or have a seven month old. But really, what did eight year old Russell want to be?"

"I honestly don't know," he admitted with a smile.

She gave him a poorly constructed pout, seconds away from breaking into the huge grin underneath.

"A doctor!" he said finally, picking the first noble profession that came to mind. In fact, the only thing he remembered wanting to be in his childhood was gone.

She executed a perfect eye roll, but snuck him a discreet lopsided smile. It was a beautiful smile. He rarely played such juvenile games, but her impish teasing made him know what he missed.

"You, though," he deflected hurriedly. "What about you?"

“I have an English degree.” She allowed herself an inch of pride. “I was three months pregnant during finals, but I graduated!”

Livy watched with rapture as a woman with a bright red purse walk passed. She tried to squirm away from her mother, but Belle reigned her back in.

She sighed and kissed the crown of Livy's head. "Who can do anything with an English degree, anyways?"

He looked at her sadly. He knew he shouldn’t pity her. Belle would have hated him if she knew how profoundly sorry he was for her. "Well there had to be a reason you chose English—let me guess." Her eyes sparkled, daring him to respond. "Teacher!" he declared.

She shook her head with a playful smile. "No. Librarian." Her smile became shy. "More boring, I'm afraid."

"Not at all!" he hastened to argue. "A very noble civil servant, and a teacher of sort."

"But you need a masters degree to be a librarian." She sighed. "Well, someday."

"Well, I hope it's soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long hiatus guys.  
> Also, this story will not be ending with ch. 8! Instead of making one story super long it is going to be broken up into parts of a series.  
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Sunday #7

They met at a new park, right on the water. The game had been canceled that week, so Gold offered to show her another park, to explore her options. And Neal liked the castle themed playground better than the generic one at their usual park. 

Belle found him staring reticently out at the ocean. His mind was all the way on the other side of the water. Glasgow and the crumbling apartment he grew up in. How could she know?

"It's beautiful," she greeted.

"There are worse things than staring at the water on a Sunday," he replied with a brisk smile. 

She sat next to him on the bench, but left Livy in the carriage. "Someone's a little tuckered out from her sleepless night," she said by way of explanation.

"Two someones, I'm thinking," Gold said to make her laugh.

She did, but around a deep yawn. "I did some research after last Sunday," she began. "Does Storybrooke even have a public library? I couldn't find a definitive answer.”

"It did, or rather does. It's small, only one person worked there and when she died—I suppose no one took up the responsibility. It is a shame, really."

Belle brooded over his condensed history for a moment. "See, now you've given me a quest."

He looked at her, compelled to laugh, but not quite sure what she meant.

She gave him a silly smile and went on to explain: "Now, I need to find a way to go back to school and get my masters degree in library science to be a state qualified public librarian, and then reopen the library."

Gold was struck by a sudden gratitude for knowing Belle. Delightful and practically sunshine in a bottle. "Yes, that is your quest. Arthur had his Grail, Tom and Jerry, mutual destruction, and you, the Storybrooke Public Library.”

"I accept." She bowed as she sat on the bench with an excessive flourish of her hands.

Neal ran past the bench pursued by two children around the same age. 

“Who is he playing with? I think I recognize them from the diner,” Belle mused.

“Ava and Nicholas Zimmer,” Gold said. “Nick is in the same grade as Neal and both siblings are on his soccer team. Their father works as a mechanic.” 

Belle nodded, suddenly recognizing the little family. “Ruby knows the mechanic he works with.” Knows? More like talks about him twenty-four seven. 

They laughed and fell into an awkward silence. “How is the apartment working out? Still good? Do you have all of the essentials?” he asked. He wouldn’t let their friendship falter again.

“Essentials?” she asked.

“You know,” he threw her a sideways smirk, “a baseball bat.”

She laughed and nodded. “And a tennis racket for Livy’s room!”

“It’s always good to start young.” Gold leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Have you done anything about those bare walls?” 

Belle sighed. “I don't have any art. I have some boy band posters from high school at my dad’s house, but somehow, I don't think they're quite what I want in my very grown up apartment.”

He laughed. “No, I don't figure they would fit your aesthetic. Though I was going through my attic and I found a painting I had forgotten about, it's nothing particularly ingenious, just a still life. I was going to put in the shop, but if you would like it, it's yours.”

Belle’s smile faltered, or rather became curious. “Why are you always so nice to me, Russ?”

He thought about the question for a long time before answered in a reserved voice. “You have been kind to me, Belle, made yourself an indispensable friend, I'm afraid. It sounds terribly pathetic, but I fear that is the truth.” 

Russell Gold anticipated being alone. It was a habit he had formed long before he could remember. That was why, he was shocked when he turned to see Belle beaming at him. “An indispensable friend,” she repeated to herself with a little pleased expression. 

They sat quietly for another hour. They played with Livy, pointing out faraway objects that the parenting websites said a seven-month-old could finally comprehend. 

When Neal and the Zimmer siblings parted and the boy came back to his father, flushed from playing on a hot summer day, Gold asked, “What did the Zimmer’s say about next week?”

Neal’s shoulders slumped. “They're going out of town.”

Gold nodded. “Okay, we’ll see what we can do then.”

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked. 

“Papa has to go on a business trip.”

“I have a lead on a dusty old rocking chair,” Gold joked. “But I unfortunately have to leave during Neal’s game and I don't want for him to have to miss it while he comes with me only to be bored out of his mind,” he explained. Just out of his father’s periphery, Neal nodded.

“I'm free,” Belle said almost automatically.

“Oh no, I could not ask you to—”

“Don't worry about it. You know that Sunday is my day off. That is if it's okay with you, Neal,” she asked the child. 

“Yeah! Please let Belle watch me, Papa!” Neal pleaded with enthusiasm. 

“I'll probably be gone until dinner time, I have to go a couple towns over,” Gold warned. 

“Well we can go to the playground after your game. I can make a picnic.”

“Like a real picnic with a blanket on the ground and everything?” Neal asked.

“Sure!”

“Please Papa!” Neal once again appealed to his father. 

Gold looked over at Belle as if to confirm that she really wanted to watch Neal all day. Of course she did. “Okay.” Neal jumped up and down in an exaggerated display of happiness and he ran off to play on the playground. 

Gold looked at Belle. A content smile lit up her face. She did not look like the tired, nervous girl that asked to sit with him seven weeks before. She still looked tired, but that was just an occupational hazard. She looked happier, less fraught with worry. He hoped that he could claim a at least a tiny bit of credit for it. 

“Thank you,” he said finally. “You've practically saved me.”

“It's no trouble on my part,” she assured him.

“Neal is very fond of you,” Gold agreed. “But please, let me pay you back in some way. “I can watch Livy or make you dinner or I'll owe you a favor.”

“You said you were going to be back around dinner time next Sunday,” Belle reasoned. “Just make me dinner then.”

“Perfect.


	8. Sunday #8

Belle had never seen the Gold residence before.

Neal had directed them from the park back to his street and Belle was overwhelmed by the two rows of magnificent Victorian homes separated by a thin strip of asphalt. Neal walked along, dragging his little duffle bag behind him, without noticing the splendor and history that surrounded him. Belle lagged several steps behind him as she decided that this street, lined with the drama of the Gothic revival and shaded by overhanging tree branches drooping to the ground, was a street of romance.

She pushed the baby carriage along the shrouded sidewalk behind Neal down the length of the street, where the tunnel of swooning branches fell away to let the gorgeous pink house—pink castle—to wow the pilgrims.

Neal didn’t even look up as he schlepped up the front steps, nudged the corner of the welcome mat over and stooped to pick up the key.

The interior was just as impressive as the exterior. Stained glass windows made kaleidoscopes on the walls in the afternoon light and though most of what she saw was outfitted in dark cherry woods, there was light everywhere. The original builder must have taken the dark woods into account and built in an excess of windows so every room glowed with sunlight.

She watched Neal play with Livy on the floor of the living room until the front door opened.

“Neal, will you help me carry in groceries please?” he called from the foyer.

Neal groaned and Belle shot him a strict look. He scurried out of the room. Belle scooped up Livy and followed him.

“Welcome home,” Belle said. She was suddenly nervous now that Gold was home. But her nerves were immediately dispelled as Gold smiled at her.

“Hello, I cannot thank you enough for watching Neal today.”

“Oh, it was fun. Really!” He had two brown paper grocery bags in his hand and Neal tottered in through the front door with another. Belle freed on hand and held her arm out. “Let me carry a bag.”

“Nonsense, I'm making dinner for you.” He strode past her into the kitchen trailing Neal behind him.

“But am I at least allowed to help just a little bit.”

“A _very_ little bit.”

 

After dinner Gold made a little nest of blankets on a couch cushion for Livy to sleep in. Neal played a game on a tablet and Gold and Belle sat in the dining room across the hall.

“That was honestly the best meal I have ever eaten,” Belle sighed.

“Thank you.” Gold poured two mugs of coffee.

Belle reveled in the little joys of being served coffee instead of serving it herself. “I should babysit Neal more often, if I get a five-star meal out of it.”

Gold laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t get the chance to cook for company as often as I would like. It’s made me go overboard, I think.”

“Thank God for that.”

Gold took a sip and smiled. “Neal really did seem to enjoy today.”

“I did too, and so did Livy. He’s such a nice boy. It was nothing.” Belle quickly reprimanded herself for deflecting Gold’s gratitude. “It was a joy.”

“I’m glad you had a good day, and I’m glad Neal was well-behaved.”

“I think it reflects very well on you,” Belle added, immediately afraid that she was being too forward. “I only meant that it’s hard to be a single parent. I saw my dad struggle with it and I’m learning it myself. Sometimes I think it’s almost impossible for a kid to turn out okay with only one parent. Neal is so great...I just worry about Livy—a lot.” Once she had started, she couldn’t get herself to stop.

Gold smiled encouragingly. “It’s okay to be worried, Belle,” he said kindly. “No parent is free of that.  
There’s still so much that could go wrong.”

“I’m so worried that I won’t be enough for Olivia, later on. Or now.”

Gold nodded. He looked out the door way, through the hall and watched Neal’s face illuminated by the screen in the dim room. “I feel much the same way. I’m also terrified that Neal’s mother should come back. She knows where we are. She could come back and I wouldn’t know what to do.

Belle didn’t notice how his face paled as he talked about his absent wife. She was too busy thinking about “Livy’s dad didn’t want anything to do with us. He pays what he needs to but he doesn’t want to see her.

“I have no idea what I’m going to tell her if she ever asks about him. Has Neal asked?”

Gold suddenly wished it wasn’t coffee in his mug, but something stronger. “Yes, and I’m afraid I handled it terribly. He asked where she was and I said ‘far away where she couldn’t hurt us,’ and then he asked why she would want to do that.”

“What did you say?”

Gold shook his head in shame. “I told him not to ask about it again.”

“But she wasn’t good—Livy’s dad…he was nice and we were in love,” Belle said slowly, trying to convince herself it seemed. She could see that Gold wasn’t convinced. “I’d known him for a long time. He started working at my dad’s flower shop when I was twelve. He didn’t really like it, but it was the only place that would hire a fifteen year old during the school year. My mom had just died and he was nice to me. And he wasn’t bad looking. He did football, wrestling, baseball, any sport he could. I went to all of his games and matches, they were the only thing my dad would let me do, really. And only then because he knew Mike was there. that’s his name, Mike Gaston.”

Belle glanced at Gold and was relieved to see that he was listening thoughtfully. She was encouraged to continue. “Mike left the shop after he graduated, but he worked at the gym next door. I made up a lot of really stupid excuses to see him, meet him at the back door.” Belle smiled down at the table. Her brown hair hid the blush that had crept over her face as it hung down like a curtain. “College had given me a little bit of bravery and when I was nineteen, I asked him out. It was so exciting. he was my first kiss, my first everything. I didn’t tell my dad until a year and a half after we started seeing each other. And then a year later, Livy happened.”

They were silent for several minutes afterward until Gold spoke. “I don’t think this ‘Mike’ was that ‘good’ if he doesn’t want anything to do with Olivia French.”

Belle’s eyes grew wet at the sentiment. “That’s very nice of you to say.”

“I think it’s true.”

Belle finally had the courage to properly look up at Gold after her story and saw that his eyes were fixed on a point over her shoulder. She turned and saw that he was staring at the top drawer of the sideboard. Gold’s focus shifted to Belle and he realized that she knew what had caught his attention.

Slowly, he stood and walked over to the sideboard and slid open the top drawer. He removed a small picture frame and stood it up on the sideboard. Inside, Belle could see a photograph of a vibrant, raven haired woman sitting next to a small Gold, looking several years younger. “Milah,” Gold said quietly. “Neal’s mother.”

Belle nodded. There was a defeated slump to Gold’s shoulder as he looked at the photo. He looked unhappy then and unhappy now. “Neal looks more like you,” she said, when anything else she could have said would have upset him more.

Gold managed a smile. “Thank you,” but his eyes were still glued to the the picture frame.

Belle stood suddenly and put the picture frame away. She closed the door and looked up at GOld with hope. “Livy will sleep for a little longer, let me help you clean up.”

 

When the dishes were all put away and Neal was yawning, there were no more excuses for Belle and Livy to stay.

“It’s dark, I must drive you home,” Gold insisted, though Belle protested, weakly, that she only lived a few minute’s walk away.

Gold sent Neal up to his room and find a sweatshirt to wear while they drove the Frenches home. (“But Dad! It’s the summer!” “And it still get cold at night, fancy that.”) Belle was packing up Livy’s diaper bag and had finished securing Livy in an old car seat that Gold had found in the attic before. Livy still slept soundly, secured in the seat and waiting on a chair.

Gold and Belle waited for Neal in the living room alone.

“Thank you again,” Gold repeated.

“Thank you for having me.”

They chuckled together quietly.

Gold turned around to retrieve his car keys from a hook next to the door and when he turned back around, it occurred to him how close they were standing.

Russ was such a good man, a kind man. She didn’t understand how anyone could hurt him. The way he spoke before, she wondered if he was as protective of her as she was of him. She almost hoped so.

His eyes were soft as they considered her in the dim light. Belle found herself gravitating toward him like a planet toward a star. he may not see the light, but she did. He smelled like a very expensive cologne, warm and comforting.

His eyes fluttered closed and he bent forward by increments.

Belle had already abandoned sight and her hands found his shoulders where he carried so much weight.

They heard Neal coming down the stairs.

“Russ…”

“Right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No—”

“Please.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

 

Gold and Neal walked Belle and Livy up to their apartment. Belle would have offered him coffee, tea, water, anything, but Neal was half asleep as it was. They said their stiff goodbyes and parted, wondering what they were thinking.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You haven't heard the last of Belle and Gold!  
> Coming soon: Everybody Loves Livy
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting. It was such a pleasure to talk to you all and I hope we can do it again sometime soon!  
> :-)


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